Oft did we threaten ruine to his state, His Norman dukedome with warre’s wastefull spoile We did deface, and sought to set debate Twixt him and his: yet after all our toile, At his weake hands we did receiue the foile: So iust is heau’n to patron right gainst wrong, And guard the weake with strength against the strong. 12. To future time the king to leaue report Of our rebellion and his long vnrest, Did cause to be depainted in his court A pellican, who breeds beneath his brest Foure yong with tender care in his warme nest, Of which three waxing strong, vnkindly rise And pecke his brest, the fourth peckes out his eies. 13. By the three first, he did decipher forth, _Geffrie_, my selfe, and _Henrie_ his first sonne: The fourth was stubborne _Iohn_ his yongest birth, Of whom when he was likewise left alone, He beat his manly brest with age foredone, And ending griefe in death, to vs vnkind, My selfe and _Iohn_, he left his curse behind. 14. The sinne that drew these plagues vpon his head, Was wanton lust and loose lasciuious life, Burnt with desire, he left his lawfull bed, For which the iealous queene his angrie wife, Twixt him and vs stirr’d vp debatefull strife: Mischiefe pursues the steps that false do proue, In the firme couenant of sinlesse loue. 15. Vnhappie we, his gracelesse sonnes that were The rods of heau’n’s reuenge for his misdeed, Did the reward of our rebellion beare, In vs our father’s curse, the plaguefull meed Of disobedience after did succeed, The rods, with which Ioue executes his ire, He oft in iudgement casts into the fire. 16. When _Henrie_ crown’d a king in royall throne And made in state coequall with our sire, Attempting oft the soueraignetie alone In sway of scepter, which he did aspire, And yet could neuer compasse his desire: With indignation at his fortunes crost, Being stricken to the heart his health he lost. 17. And seeing in sicknesse with repentant eies, The vglie shape of sinne, heart-freez’d with cold, Of death’s pale terror, he for mercie cries, And begs but this, that he may but behold Our father’s face, ere he be wrapt in mould: Which last request our father him deni’d, Doubting deceit in death, when _Henrie_ di’d. 18.